


Wider Than A Mile

by space_dust



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_dust/pseuds/space_dust
Summary: Post-Android Revolution and you find yourself working for the Detroit Police Department, whether you wanted to or not.  Cyberlife wants answers, and your going deliver. But things aren't what they seem, and dead androids are piling on your work table.As things spiral downward, it doesn't help that there's a nosy android detective that's intent on distracting you every step of the way. (In hindsight, that's mostly your fault.)





	Wider Than A Mile

 

 **September 3, 2032** ****  
****  
**PM 10:58:06** ****  
**Cyberlife Laboratories**

The burning building stood stark against the dark night sky. Down below, red and blue painted the scene, as wailing sirens sounded in the distance.  People ran wild out of the building, faces pale and stained with ash, screams piercing through the quiet streets. In the midst of it all one man stood against the pushing horde, eyes transfixed at the fiery spectacle, as the flames somehow only seemed to grow higher and higher.

 

 **J** **anuary 8, 2039** ****  
****  
**PM 07:05:34** **  
** **Detroit Police Department**

"Is the room up to standard, Doctor?" the android asks beside you. It looks at you with sharp eyes, LED flashing yellow making her features even more pronounced in the dim light of the room.

You flinch, swiveling your head at its direction, before looking away just as quickly. The android, an old ST300 model− was silent on your walk all the way here, and its sudden question caught you off guard. It wasn’t supposed to do that, you think, before willing the thought away. Android sentience is a thing now, you gripe. Be nice.

The room in question was an old, glorified storage room. Its had dusty cement floors and yellowed wallpaper peeling at the sides. It was in such bad shape, you wonder how many decades this place was last set foot on.

"It’s… fine. I’ll call in the renovation team in the morning,” you say. Cyberlife did ensure that they'd provide full equipment, which you no doubt they aren’t going to spare in expense. A big show of support to the local police department. Now all they need to do is wrap you up in a big, red bow.

"No need to lie." It says, sharp gaze leveling at you. The indicator in at the side of it’s head burning red.  
  
Brows raising, you smile with sudden unease. "I− What?"  
  
"You clearly don’t want to be here," it continues as if making conversation. “And I share the sentiment. Please, go back to Cyberlife where you belong”. Its mouth pulling in a tight smile, eyes flashing a warning. Despite it’s polite tone, the undercurrent of hostility was obvious.  
  
"I am assigned here to help the precinct with cases," you say after a tense silence, throat dry. “I can’t just quit.”

“Is that what they programmed you to say?" It says mocking, teeth bared in a malicious grin.  
  
“I− no,” you pause. “I’m sorry?”  
  
Its smile falls away, face twisting in frustration. "Do you even know what your apologizing for?”  
  
You don’t, and in a intelligent display of decision making, you opt to keep your mouth shut.  
  
“The moment you got here, you called me by my model name.” it points at you  accusing, as it takes a step forward. " You look at me, and all you see is a machine. Like the rest of them."  
  
“That’s− I don’t look at you like anything,” you say, crossing your arms. “You’re paranoid.”  
  
“You really think I wouldn’t know that.” Its LED still pulsed a deep red, before flickering  to yellow. The android looks at you with contempt, mouth curling, before shaking its head. You feel your hackles rise as your  jaw works up a response, before it cuts you short. "Captain Fowler is requesting you at his office." The android says, before turning and walking away, heels loudly clacking against the floor.  
  
As its footsteps faded in the distance, you find yourself scowling. Well, that was pleasant. With a sharp huff, you straighten your jacket, only to find that your hands were shaking. You’ve never encountered an android who voiced it sentiments to your face, and you can only hope that was your last. With trembling fingers, you turn off the lights and close the door behind you as you leave.

You retrace your steps, passing by police officers who gave you curious glances, most likely seeing the android stomp off. You feign indifference and ignore them, too tired to deal with anything else. It was still strange for you to see them going around claiming their own sentience. A design flaw as your colleagues called it, but seeing it face to face was interesting. If not a bit upsetting.

You remember vaguely that  a part of your contract involved keeping your work relations as smooth as possible.  Looking how well that's working so far, you should apologize to the ST300 sooner rather than later.  
  
You reel at the thought− one step at a time, you tell yourself amiably.  
  
As the hallway then turns to the main lobby, you awkwardly peer from your spot, head partially sticking out as you take a look around. The place was filled with people, seemingly neck deep in their work despite the time. There’s a hum in the air as people shifted about, talking to one another in a way that looked warm. This whole ‘integration’ with the police force was going to be more difficult than you thought.

Squinting, you locate Captain Fowlers office, with its big flashy screens and large glass walls but you don’t spot him inside. Mentally, you curse the android. Though you can’t help but feel relief as it doesn’t seem to be in the nearby vicinity. Sol here you are, standing in the hallway junction, looking like an idiot.  
  
Thankfully a wandering police officer seems to be going in your direction and you can’t help but perk up, as he intently looks on his phone with one hand, and a cup of coffee on the other. You eye the name stitched in his uniform, ‘C. Miller’ you read in yellow, capital letters. He nearly walks by you, before stopping and glancing at your direction, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the Cyberlife logo emblazoned on your stark white suit jacket.  
  
"Should you be here?" he says apprehensively, eyes squinting at you. His dark hair is shaven close to his head, as his mouth pulled thinly. He wore his uniform in a way that was neat and put together.  
  
You nod. "I was called by Captain Fowler."  
  
"Right." He says, dragging the vowel a bit longer than it should be, not bothering to hide the suspicion from his tone. "Cyberlife sent you?"  
  
"I am here to assist in cases involving androids," you explain for the second time tonight as Miller regards you. Then you introduce yourself and show the visitors ID from your pocket, before holding your hand out then seeing his are both occupied. He snorts as you inwardly wince.  
  
"You sure you aren’t another robot?" he jabs at you with no real malice, pocketing his phone as he takes your hand, shaking it firmly. You decide you like him. "Chris Miller by the way, nice to meet you too, Doc. Come on, we can wait by the break room."  
  
"Thank you Mr Miller," you mutter in relief, shoulders sagging for a fraction, before he beckons at you.  
  
“You make me sound like I’m sixty,” he says with a shiver. “Just call me Chris.”  
  
You two stride through the open plan office floor, desks occupied with officers working through the night shift, eyes darting your way curiously. You can’t help but think it was a deliberate move on Chris’ part with how slow he was walking.  
  
“Can I help you?” You say frowning, catching his sideways glance at you.  
  
“I’m just curious." He begins. "I mean, we assumed that you guys would be shut down.”  
  
You smile. “A trillion dollar conglomerate wouldn’t disappear overnight, android uprising or no.”  
  
“Good point.” He says, ducking into the small cafeteria. “Between you and me, all the power to our plastic friends, but it’s been, what? Months? I still remember Connor walking in the office, and we were all just terrified he’d take our jobs.”  
  
You look at him in confusion. “You mean the RK800−” you start, before coughing into your hand. “Yes− him. Connor.”  
  
“Your funny Doc,” he jibes easily, sipping into his coffee before making a face. “God this tastes like shit. Ever since Reed whacked the damn thing, it’s been on the fritz. The coffee just comes out cold.”  
  
“He must’ve knocked the heating plate out of place, happens back at the office sometimes,” you say quiet, eyes glazing over. “I can fix that for you if you’d like.”  
  
“Is there anything you can’t do?” Chris grins.  
  
“I’m just happy to use my PhD to its fullest potential,” you say, approaching the broken machine. You turn it to the side, and pry it open with a multi-tool you always keep in your jacket pocket, and see a the pump head slightly loose. With one efficient turn of your wrist, you set it back to its normal pressure and put the coffee machine panel back once more. “That should do it.”  
  
“You’re miracle worker.” He beams, dumping his acrid drink on the sink.  
  
“It’s nothing,” you pocket your tool, as Chris makes a new batch on the machine. Briefly, you glance at Captain Fowlers office, trying to see if the man has returned yet. The office remains empty, and you glance at your watch.  
  
“He’ll be back soon, don’t worry about it.” He says, noting your antsy expression.  
  
“Where is he anyway?” you say, drumming your fingers against the counter top.  
  
Chris looks at Fowlers office with a raised brow. “He’s probably coming back from a conference or something. Captains been out of his office more than he’s in it these days.” The smell of ground coffee beans is more potent now, and you smile gratified, as he pours himself a cup.  
  
“I saw some of the press interviews he did.” You say. “He seems intimidating.”  
  
“Oh, he is.” Chris says, leaning by the kitchen counter, blowing over his drink. “He looks like a hardass, but he’s a good Captain. Kept us all together _and_ Lieutenant Anderson.”  
  
“Connors partner, if I remember correctly,” You say matter of fact.  
  
“You sure do know a lot.” Chris says, tone flippant.  
  
“I was briefed before I came here... part of my contract.” You add the last bit unnecessarily, but from the sudden gleam in his eye, you knew you over spoke. It’s easy to forget that Chris was suspicious of you, especially with how friendly the man is. “Do you get a lot of android cases here?” you say suddenly, trying to divert the conversation.  
  
“Not as much as before,” Chris looks at his cup, distracted. “When there is, it’s usually because they want to go back to the good ol’ days of android slavery.”  
  
“That’s messed up,” you comment faintly.  
  
“Just how the world works,” he says. “People do stupid things when they’re scared, or something like that.”  
  
As you were about to reply, you see another officer come in looking drained. The man seemed visibly exhausted, dark bags lining his eyes but that doesn’t seem to take away the menacing glint in them. His face was unshaven, and when he looked at you his features twisted in surprise, then disgust. “Oh fuck, they sent another one.”  
  
“Excuse me?” you frown, reeling back.  
  
“They’re not an android Detective Reed. Cyberlife doesn’t do that anymore, remember?” Chris snorts as he pushes himself away from the counter to stand between the two of you. “Doc, meet Detective Gavin Reed. Precincts local asshole.”  
  
“Fuck off Miller.” He huffs. “I smell coffee.”  
  
Chris gestures at the fresh pot he made, moving aside to perch at one of the standing tables, while you scurry after him. Detective Reed meanwhile practically dumps the entire pot on his thermos.  
  
“Wow.” You mutter, dismayed.  
  
“Charming, isn’t he?” Chris says shaking his head.

Reed raises a middle finger, to you or Chris− he didn’t clarify, before trudging out of the room without another word.  
  
“He looks like he’s ready to fall on the floor.”  
  
“He gets like that when he’s working on a case, especially this one. He’d sleep on the precinct if he could.” Chris says. “Well, he did, until Captain Fowler told him off on the third day.”  
  
“Speaking of Captain Fowler,” you say, eyes seeing a dour looking man enter his office. “That’s him isn’t it?”  
  
Fowler was scowling as people moved away from his path. You cock your head to the left, wondering why he seemed furious.

“He’s looking pretty jolly,” Chris knits his brows together in concern. “Let’s go say hi.”  
  
Nodding, you turn to follow Chris who was ahead, while you trail after him. He stops just by the door of the glass office, hand hovering by the glass before knocking in twice.  
  
Captain Fowler looks up from his seat, before gesturing for you to come in. Chris pushes the door open for you, before making an exaggerated gesture for you to go in. You look at him unimpressed, before entering.  
  
The man by the desk looked weathered, but his posture was still rigid as he looks over his tablet, before glancing up at you.You introduce yourself quickly, as he strikes you as a man who doesn’t like his time isn’t wasted.  
  
“Captain Jeffrey Fowler,” he says standing up and shaking your hand in a tight grip before sitting back down. You stand there silently as he reads something on his tablet.  
  
Your eyes scan what seems to be your contract.  
  
“At least you aren’t on my payroll,” Fowler starts with a drawl. “Still, people here don’t like Cyberlife, Doctor. Between the protests and patrols, they’ve give us enough trouble these past months and before that. Things here won’t be easy for you.”  
  
Briefly, you wonder if he knew about your confrontation with the android. Which was impossible, though the timing is uncanny. But then again, as friendly as Chris seemed, you can’t help but feel sized up. And you don’t even want to begin with Detective Reed.

“I’m sorry,” you say, unsurely for the second time tonight. “I can talk to management about those issues, if you prefer.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says leaning back on his chair. “For what it’s worth, I’m going to ask a little patience from you. These are good people, but it might take them a while to getting used to.”  
  
“I understand.” You say nodding. “I’m sure I’ll prove beneficial for this police force, and show that I’m more than capable.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” he says looking up at you wryly. “But sure, go do that. If any of them cause you any trouble, come to me. Better I intervene first, alright?”

“Thank you.” You say more in surprise than anything, lips pulling into a slight smile. Even if he was doing it more for his sake, since Cyberlife tends to overtake things whenever they found it worth interfering over. But, you do appreciate the sentiment. “Will do, Captain.”

Captain Fowler nods. “Now that’s over, let me officially welcome you to the force. The Detroit Police Department is glad to have you.”

“I can’t see myself being anywhere else.”  
****

**07:13:03 PM**  

**Errings Residence**

“Hank?” Connor calls from the kitchen, kneeling over a deactivated android that was all twisted and bent, as it laid face down on the tiled floor swimming in its own blood. It was a gruesome picture, its joints distorted in a way that was so unnatural, that it unsettled even Lieutenant Anderson who stopped short by Connor, looking at it with a grimace.

  
“Fucking hell, what happened to him?” he says wincing, looking over the scene.

“His name is David, a TW400 construction model,” Connor informs, showing him the androids ID from a wallet he pilfered from its jacket.

“Money is still in there.” Hank notes. “So this isn’t just some robbery.”

“Not that kind of theft.” Connor says, before gently turning the victim over, not that the sentiment mattered, but he likes to think it does. “I suspect major biocomponent loss as there was no other way this much thirium would’ve left his body.”  
  
“Jesus!” Hank nearly shouts, as one hollow ocular receptor stare back up at them, wires still hanging from where it was roughly pulled out, while its mouth hung open. Its torso was mangled as well, as if it was attacked with desperation its chest cavity hollow and torn. “Looks like this came out of a fucking horror flick. Goddamn it Connor, warn a guy next time.”  
  
The android detective purses his lips, brows furrowed. “I didn’t think the damages would be this... extensive. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Hank says, sighing before patting his shoulder. “My blood pressure tanked ages ago son.”  
  
Connor looks up at Hank in surprise, before cocking his head to the left. “I assure you that your new diet would take care of that health problem.”  
  
“Not here Connor.” The old detective berates sternly, lowering his voice. Ben gives him an amused smirk from the side of the room, clearly listening in. The android grins at him, all cheek, and Hank rolls his eyes. “I hate both of you.”  
  
“Wonder what it's like having a personal nurse.” Ben quips as he nears the two. He waves to Connor, who acknowledges him before going back to inspect the victim.  
  
“Shut your mouth.” He mutters. “And it not as great as you think.”  
  
“What, he forces salad down your throat?”  
  
“He might as well be. Fuckin’ diet.” he grumbles, before seeing the tablet on his fellow officer’s hand. “Got something for me Ben?’  
  
The officer dips his head and lists off immediately. “Right. So I went over to the neighbor who called us in. Told me that  the suspicious noises began quarter to six, but they didn’t call it in immediately. Said he didn’t really think about it up until ten minutes later, when he heard somebody screaming.”  
  
“He’s got an alibi?”  
  
“His husband and two kids confirmed it.” Ben sighs. “Moreover, the place has been for sale and when I contacted owner, she said that she didn’t have a clue about anybody breaking into her home.”  
  
“Dead ends then,” he mutters. “Here I was hoping this’d be easy.”  
  
“Well that’s what he’s here for,” Ben points his thumb at Connor. “Bet you he can solve this under twenty minutes.”  
  
“Make that ten at this rate,” his eyes tracking the android as Connor moves to inspect the backdoor. His brows were creased together, as his mouth pulled thin. Hank noticed that the android would always have a certain look in his face when he carried out his investigation. But this time, Connor seemed a little too strung up, and he didn’t miss the way his LED flashes red for a while there.  
  
“Also got signs of forced entry, but no fingerprints, and the kitchen island was chipped. Safe to assume the android got shoved into it before falling into the floor,” the officer continues, snapping Hank from his thoughts. “When we checked the second floor, nothing seemed out of place. No sign of a murder weapon either. You’d think with that much blue blood we would’ve found something at least.”  
  
“Your thinking an android did this,” the old detective says resignedly, feeling the familiar pressure at the back of his eyelids.  
  
“Can you blame me?” He shrugs as they move into the hallway, away from the others. “Were grasping at straws here. It’s too clean.”  
  
“Androids are usually pacifists, officer,” Connor pipes up from behind them and the poor officer nearly jumps.  
  
“Jeez,” Ben wheezes. “Don’t do that.”  
  
“I apologize,” the android says frowning. “But I overheard your conversation about the possibility of an android suspect.”  
  
“Well, what do you think?”  
  
Connor purses his lips. “It’s probable, but I have yet to fully reconstruct the scene of the crime. Its best we reserve judgement for later.”  
  
“Could also he one of those anti-android groups going around,” the lieutenant suggests beside him, arms crossing. “A few people can overpower an android, even if it’s a stronger model.”  
  
The old officer knows when he’s been outnumbered, and shakes his head resignedly. “Sure, fine‒ i’ll be over with my tablet when you’re all ready to tell me i’m right.”  
  
“Keep dreaming Ben,” Hank says as the officer walks off with a rude gesture. He chuckles.

“I followed a trail of thirium to the bathroom,” Connor informs beside him when the officer was out of earshot. “And found packs of blue blood in the waste bin by the sink. Did the previous owner of the home have an android with them?”

“He didn’t say.” Hank says, mouth pulling into a frown. “Think it's important?”

He purses his lips. “Possibly. There’s are a few leads I still need to follow. I’m going to check upstairs.”

The lieutenant glances at the passing android before sighing. Saying he’s worried about the kid is an understatement. The whole case seemed wrong, and the murder was too brutal to be anything but intentional, and he wonders what kind of shit he’s got himself into, again.

Troubled, he runs his hands through his graying hair while walking towards the backyard. The night air was chilly, overgrown grass wet with dew. The biting cold sobers him, as he scans the perimeter, hands deep in his pockets.

The perpetrator most likely came in through the back, but why bring the android all the way here to do the deed? Biocomponents were now a regular commodity, and Cyberlife was happy to provide any android who came around asking for it.

Could be something personal. Can an android even have enemies?

Well, there’s always a first time for everything, Hank just hoped it wasn’t this. Android on android violence just after the revolution isn’t a good look for peace efforts. Tensions are still high, but Markus’ diplomacy talks did sway a few more citizens to trickle in through the city. But these people are too far and few between, even with the massive public support they received, they were unwilling to risk families and loved ones. And Hank can’t blame ‘em.

Considering the other possibility, even if the anti-android movement had anything to do with it, why not have it for all the world to show? Then again, suburban murders like these always got people talking. Doesn’t help that the gaggle of reporters seemed to grow outside with every passing minute.

The headache that’s growing in his temples intensifies. He’s going to have to call Jeffrey on this one.

He lumbers back inside, hand on his phone as he tried to stall for time. Any minute now, Connor would pop up from behind him and look like overeager puppy to tell him what he already knows. Still, it’s nice to hear the detective android confirm the facts, and add more on things he might’ve missed.

He hears his sharp footsteps by the stairs, and Hank looks up expectant. “Sure took your sweet time up there Connor.”

“I found an antique camera,” the android detective says, holding up a blocky black rectangle. “An Argus C3 model, or as they called it, ‘The Brick’. It’s an inexpensive camera, mainly used for the purpose of nostalgia.”

“Holy shit,” he says in disbelief. “I never knew those things still existed.”

“I found it another a loose wooden floorboard,” Connor says. “It was the victim’s.” He says, showing the crudely written name of David underneath on a paper tape.

The older man finds his lips tugging at the side. “Nice work. Think you’ve got things figured out?”

Connor jerks his head, before going to kitchen while Hank follows. “David was living in this house. Officer Collins said the one who lived here was female, yet there are clothes here in the drawers with his size. Additionally, with the thirium packs and this camera, it’s most likely he was living here. But for how long, I’m not sure.”

Hank nods. “Is he on database? Someone must’ve given him that camera. Doubt he writes like that.”

The android shakes his head. “When I ran through the police files, there wasn’t anything that could tell us of his housing situation prior any indication of associates. I've set another email to Cyberlife to allow access my profiling data banks, but I haven’t gotten a reply.”

“Great.” Hank mutters. “Just when we really needed your limitless knowledge”

“Cyberlife was sued for it.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

They hover over the body, as Connor takes a sharp inhale. “I’ve cataloged his injuries, and he was first attacked from behind, with the cracked casing on the back caused by a blunt instrument.”

“Ambushed then.” Hank says. “The killer knew what he was doing.”

Connor nods. “This would be detrimental, as his processing core would be highly damaged, especially with this strong of an impact. He had only minutes before shutting down. Unable to fight back, his biocomponents was taken from him.” Connor says, prodding through the exposed wiring, and plastic mesh. “ His plating and components were pulled out by force. Which would be… extremely difficult for human standards. Especially for a TW400 model as they were heavily reinforced with stronger material.”

“How about a tool?” Hank mutters. “A pry bar would’ve easily done the trick.”

“There aren’t any indications a tool was used when they were taking his parts.” The android frowns. “But his limbs were most likely crushed by the same blunt tool the killer had used.”

The cruel nature in the execution of the crime was extreme. Something settled heavily in Connors shoulders, as he took a sharp intake of breath. Not that he needed to breathe, since his artificial lungs were more for cooling his unit, but the cosmetic purpose eased him even a little. It was painful to look at David, and he can’t help but think of how he got this way. Why he needed to be crippled to this extent when he was already incapable of fighting back. His hands shook as he stepped away, back pulled taut.

“Ben was right.”

“He was.” Connor closes his eyes, trying to ignore the rising stress levels that flashed in his periphery. “This… isn’t good Hank.”

“Tell me something I don’t know kid.” Hank says. “Jeffreys not gonna like this one fucking bit.”

The android couldn't help but wince. Despite being used to Fowlers anger, it was still painful for his audio processors whenever he starts shouting. “I… wont tell Markus yet.”

“Sure keeping this from him is a good idea?”

“He already has the rest of androidkind to look after.” He says. “I'll tell him after we've captured the killer.”

“You know what your doing Connor.” Hank says, thumb hovering over his dial screen.

 **9:52:04 PM** **  
** **Detroit Police Department Parking Lot**

“How expensive would it be to revoke the work contract I just signed?” Your head resting on your steering wheel eyes fluttering close. Your jacket was folded by your lap as you resist the urge to take a nap then and there.

Your ex-coworker chuckles from the other side of call. You echo it softly, tired. He had one of those laughs that was the infectious kind, and hearing it now was more comforting than you thought it would be. “More expensive than what we're paying you,” Seymor replies finally. “Awful first day?”

His voice was sympathetic, and if you tried hard enough, maybe you could ignore the fact that he was the one who got you in this mess in the first place. Plus, Philip Seymor is an old friend, a brilliant scientist, and currently acting as the Director of Futurology, and now, Executive Sciences.

“It wasn’t even a first day,” you say whine, before starting the car and backing out of the parking space. "I'm beginning doubt the we’d find anything more about the deviancy outbreak here.”

You can almost see Philips noncommittal shrug. “ We need to give the upper management something, before they all kick us out.”

“Please,” you say eye rolling. “We are upper management.”

“You know what I mean,” Seymor reminds you. “The people at business corporate need something solid they can exploit. I can’t argue with you about this again.”

“And I can’t keep doing this, again” You bite your lip, tightening the grip on the steering wheel. “You promised me I could work on my project, but that's not going to happen anytime soon is it?”

“I'm sorry Bones,” he calls you by your old nickname, and you resist rolling your eyes. “But it’s better you out there than anyone else, yeah?”

“Yes, inflate my ego.” You grouch. "I'm still angry at you, you know.”

“I'm serious.” Seymor says, tone low. “You find out anything, we get to keep our jobs. I’m actually jealous you get to go out there, doing the fun stuff.”

It wasn’t much fun, but more stress inducing. You drive slow under they city lights, trying  to calm down, which wasn’t much work. You could never stay angry for long, especially not with Phil. The quiet too did help ease your nerves, and you exhale softly. You just need to be more patient.

“Maybe you should’ve added espionage on your dossier, then you could’ve tagged along with me.” You say after a while.

“I’m not wearing green briefs and yellow cape for you,” he informs you a prude coloring his tone,

“Now I cant get that mental image out of my head,” you crack a grin, as you go out in the freeway, mindfully switching lanes. “It’s not that fun to be honest.”

“Oh it’s terrifying,” he admits. “But you were made for it. I know your project is important to you, but with everything else, Cyberlife can’t handle new projects right now.”

“I know,” you concede finally, trying not to sound too bitter. You can never really win an argument with Seymor you aren’t about to start now. “Hows it on your end by the way?”

“Actually going to have another conference tomorrow.” he says with exhaustion written in his voice. You click your tongue, wishing he didn’t always accept these interviews. “Things have been really heating up over here, the people are demanding public transparency. “

“Oh shut up, you love the work.” And he did. For however long you knew him, you were always swept away with how ambitious and driven the man could be. Doesn’t help he was always so charismatic, always so keen on working on ‘the next big thing’. Still, you worried he’d burn himself out.

“You got me.” Philip says, and you can almost see his smile from the other end of the line. “It’s still ridiculous how they think Seer is some sort of mindhive AI about to bring all our deaths.”

“I mean, you did make it to predict that. Your just going to have to explain that to them like a five year old, Phil,” you coo sympathetically as the city slowly fades back into the suburbs. “You can do it. I believe in you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He says. “Speaking of AI’s, met the RK800 yet?”

“No, but I did get into Captains Fowlers computer. It got a call about a disturbance earlier. Left just before I got in.”

“That was quick,” Philip says in surprise. “How did you even manage that?”

“Tacked a small cipher breaker on his monitor when I shook his hand.”

“I’m impressed.” he says, admiration clear. “As always.”

“Thank you, thank you.” you say, pleased. “I’m making August run through the files now, and RK800’s solved case streak has been more than remarkable. Kamski really outdid himself on the android,” you say eagerly. “I wish I could've seen it’s blueprints.”

“It’s highly confidential, even I haven’t seen it,” he reminds you. “Only Elijah and a few others handled the RK Series. Besides, you’ll get to see it up close soon. Remember Graff talking about it for weeks? It was insufferable.”

“I think he did a great job,” you say, a hazy remembrance of Graff chatting about it with you. You may have blocked him out entirely.

“He looks like he came out of a runaway, but could also pass off as your unattainable, attractive next door neighbor.” Seymor imitates poorly, voice breaking. “He’s perfect!”

You laugh loudly, shoulders shaking. “That was awful.”

“See? Your not the only one with talents.” Seymor says. “There's a fee for breaking my vocal chords by the way. Pay up.”

“Would a Traci suffice?”

“I'm going to ignore that harsh criticism about my love life because I care about this friendship.” Philip says, before pausing. “Get me the most expensive one.”

“At this rate I wouldn’t mind,” you say, a goofy smile on your face. “Thanks for cheering me up by the way.”

“Hey if I get a free house call for it, hit me up anytime.”

“Night Phil.” You say.

“You too Bones.”

Slowly you drive through the quiet neighborhood, feeling a lot better than you were before. Still the  small pang of sadness twists inside of you, hoping you could go back to Cyberlife once more. Take it you didn’t have a lot of friends, as the place was a demanding work environment but Phil was there. And you didn’t have to prove yourself to anyone because you were brilliant at your work, and they knew.

But now to them you're just another Cyberlife lackey, who unfortunately got assigned at the precinct. Which in all purposes, was supposed to look like that, but still you can’t help but feel inadequate. You could still work with your projects at the precinct, but the progress would be slower. And with everything else, you don’t doubt it could halt altogether.

Your car slows by a small townhouse, with its grey peeling paint and untamed yard, you couldn’t help but wince. You almost forgot that you still have to unpack your things, and that the place still needing to tend to. Briefly, you consider getting staying in the motel for the night, but the cheapskate inside of you rears its ugly head and with a huff you open the car door and face the small wooden gate, white paint washed out.

Looking up at your old childhood home almost feels nostalgic, and you heave a sigh. You still have a long night ahead of you.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing something proper? So this might have some glaring issues. Please point them out so I can fix them. It'd be a big help and thank you in advance! Ill try to answer questions too if your confused.
> 
> Heres what the camera looks like: https://www.google.com.ph/search?q=argus+camera&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi0xMrwg_fcAhXGfd4KHY-SB1UQ_AUICigB&biw=1242&bih=602#imgrc=75j9B1JYnIfdQM:
> 
> Philip Seymor is a Cyberlife employee who created a quantum computer that can predict future devastating events. He was mentioned once or twice in-game. More about it here: http://detroit-become-human.wikia.com/wiki/Philip_Seymor
> 
> Jason Graff is also another Cyberlife employee. He basically helps design an androids outward appearance.
> 
> Your nickname is Bones because I like Star Trek and that old CSI show. Plus it's cheesy and its a bit difficult writing in second person. That is all, thank you for coming to my TED talk
> 
> tumblr: https://cosmic-dusts.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> *writing with Connors theme is a mistakE


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